


These Fine Lines

by IllegalKittens



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Derek Shepherd (mention), F/F, Friends to Lovers, addison hates being treated like a baby but needs someone to take care of her anyway, i lov them also addison used to live in new york so it MAKES SENSE, if i ever continue this lol, this is such a crack ship sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalKittens/pseuds/IllegalKittens
Summary: A series of phone calls between Addison and Olivia post-Derek.Or, when your straight friend keeps getting her heart broken by men.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda lazy but i had to express my love for this ship because no one else will.  
> nothing romantique happens in this chapter but like. im gay for slow burn

“Come to Seattle. Please.”

 

It’s a quarter after five in the morning when a very drunk, very desolate Addison Montgomery breathes it into Olivia’s ear over the phone. Her voice is broken and wet like she’d been crying, like she’s still crying. Slurred, too. It’s almost too easy for her to picture Addison wrapped in an expensive robe, bleeding the last drops out of a wine bottle that likely cost more than Olivia’s first apartment. 

 

Olivia assumes it’s late into the night in Washington; it isn’t unordinary for each of them to be kept up late within their respective professions (the concept of time becomes slightly warped when you’re around the clock) but it’s safe to say that Addison isn’t preparing to go into an O.R. when she’s calling an old friend across the country in a drunken stupor. 

 

“What’s been keeping you up, Addie?” She asks, and it isn’t  _ exactly  _ a deflection. 

 

There is no response, save for some pitiful sniffling, and to even describe anything Addison did as pitiful was indicative enough that she was really going through it, for in average circumstances she is anything but. Though, frankly, Olivia doesn’t really expect a response, for she was really quite ready to draw the assumption that the redhead was far too deep under the influence of alcohol to understand what she herself was saying, let alone what Olivia was. 

 

But then, finally, with a long, shuddering breath, she speaks with heartbreaking clarity: “He’s gone. We’re over.”

 

It is not without a sharp sense of déjà vu that Olivia takes in the weight of what Addison says, because Derek’s left her before, but something about the finality in her tone makes Olivia truly want to drop everything then and there and catch the next flight at JFK just so she can take her in her arms. 

 

“We’re getting a divorce,” Addison’s voice breaks this time, whatever composure she’d likely forced herself to gain before completely dissolved. She barks out a bitter laugh, and says, “For real, this time.”

 

“Addison,” Olivia starts gently, injecting as much sympathy into her voice as she can manage before she’s cut off.

 

“ _ Don’t _ use that voice. I know that voice. God, I practically have a patent on that voice,” Addison snaps, and Oliva knows she’s been found out—she’d inadvertently taken the tone that she generally reserved for  _ sorry for your loss _ and  _ you can’t blame yourself _ —but she hardly has time to react to the outburst before Addison’s voice grows very quiet. Meek, even.

 

“I haven’t been alone in  _ ten years _ , Olivia,” she says in what is nearly a murmur, and Olivia allows the alcohol to take the blame for her friend’s behavior. What Addison says bears weight, for she truly was alone, living across the country from the life she’d always known and now she’s lost the thing that brought her there. 

 

“I have no one.”

 

_ Is it not enough to have me? _ Olivia tries not to think.  _ You’ve always had me. _

 

“You should get some sleep. Set out some water and painkillers and sleep off whatever you have in your system.”

 

Addison laughs, slightly, and while it isn’t necessarily mirthful, it lacks the bite it had before. “I’m becoming my mother—I’m already in a bottle deep and I’m still not numb yet.”

 

Olivia’s jaw ticks. She doesn’t know what to say, she realizes; it’s a strange twist of irony that she has no idea how to comfort her, considering soothing women in distress was essentially second nature to her at that point. What can she say, though, that she hasn't said before? She'd laid out all her cards the night Derek first left Addison crying and hugging her knees in that big, empty Brownstone; she'd called Olivia minutes after he was gone, and the brunette could hear the raw ache in Addison’s frantically whispered words as she begged for solace, booze, anything. (Olivia comforted her for hours, rubbing circles on her back and whispering quiet reassurances until she was called into work.) 

 

Olivia is quiet for a beat before she settles on what to say: “Don’t become an alcoholic over Derek.”

 

Seconds later she realizes she must certainly have said the wrong thing, the way Addison bursts into tears as if Olivia’s informed her that her mother has died as well. She sobs desperately, and takes in heavy, shuddering breaths; she keeps pausing as if intending to speak, but each attempt results in a harsh wail that sounds like it’s been ripped from the pit of her lungs. 

 

_ I’ve never cried like that _ , Olivia thinks. But perhaps she’s simply gotten too good at suppressing her emotions. 

 

“Don’t s”—Addison chokes out—“Don’t say his name.”   
  


There are a few moments where Olivia stays silent, simply letting her friend cry until she was empty. When all there is left is muted sniffling, Oliva sighs, though it isn’t exasperation that laces it, only a touch of helplessness. “What can I do to help you, Addison?” She asks, toying with the hem of her shirt. She eyes the clock. Ten ‘till six.

 

“I already told you.”

 

It takes a minute for Oliva to understand, but when she does, she again sighs.  _ Come to Seattle. _

 

“I can’t do that,” She says quietly. “I can’t drop everything and run across the country. You know that.”

 

_ I have a job _ , Olivia doesn’t say.  _ And I certainly don’t have a twenty-something million dollar trust fund to lean on, either.  _

 

It isn’t a bitter thought. Frank, but not bitter.

 

Olivia isn’t sure she  _ could  _ be bitter towards Addison.

 

Addison breathes with forced evenness for several beats, inhaling and exhaling with practiced poise with soft hitches as she collects herself.

 

“I know,” she says. Olivia closes her eyes; Addison’s voice is thick with exhaustion and alcohol. 

 

“What can I do?” Olivia asks again.

 

“Just talk to me.”

 

So she does. Olivia whispers into Addison’s ear for as long as she can manage, talking about her day, useless, meaningless stories, until Addison’s breathing evens out, until the world stills and she’s sure the earth has been lulled to sleep by her own hand.

  
_ I love you, _ she doesn’t say as she hangs up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addison had a bad day. Olivia offers consolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening ladies and gays. Enjoy :)

There is a relative improvement the next time Addison calls.

All things are subjective, whispers a quiet, unhelpful voice, but Olivia waves it off. She once again reminds herself that Addison is in pain, a pain unfamiliar to Olivia, but a pain nonetheless. The struggle of a divorced woman is quite a unique struggle, she thinks, it's something so far displaced by its frequency to the point that despite how individual and heartbreaking each situation is, despite being a tragedy in itself, it is reduced to a melodramatic spiel.

“I've done something… Regrettable,” 

She isn't crying. It isn't a wine-fueled 4 AM call, either.

So there's a relative improvement.

“I'm sure you have,” Olivia says teasingly, taking extra caution to prevent her tone from differing from the friendly intention of her words. 

Addison, as much as the fiery redhead would like to deny it, is remarkably fragile in her post-marriage state; therefore, while teasing is risky at best when it comes to avoiding causing further damage, she knows just how Addison detests being treated like the porcelain she is. Olivia is sure to place one foot in front of the other on the fine line she treads. 

Olivia's gaze flicks momentarily towards her watch. She's been off work (off being totally subjective, for truly she is always working) for the better half of two hours, and when her phone had gone off at such a time she'd entirely expected it to be Elliot with a follow up on the case they'd been presented with that day. In all honesty, however, Addison felt like a case within itself. 

Not one that she particularly dislikes to solve, mind you.

There's a moment where Olivia is sure she hears the distinct clinking of a bottle.

“Hey,” She says sharply. (To hell with fragility, she decides.) “How about you try out telling me what's going on this time before trying and failing to get the wine to console you?”

“I've got tequila on hand at the moment, actually”--a sigh--“and whatever's stashed in the hotel bar.”

Olivia runs her hand over her face. The looming threat of alcoholism hits a beat too close to home. 

It had killed her own mother, after all.

“Addison, I swear to god if I even sense you getting drunk I'll hang up the phone.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes,” Addison says. “I'm in a hotel room.”

“I'm aware,” Olivia's voice is much softer. She again treads lightly. 

“Let me finish. Mark's here.”

“He followed you to Seattle?” Olivia asks though it isn't quite a shocking concept to consider. Mark had gone to some length to catch Addison when she'd ghosted across the country; he'd even gone as far as to contact Olivia, despite being more than aware of the rather distaste she’d held towards him. 

“Not… exactly.”

Olivia wants to be surprised, but if there's one thing she knows about Addison it is her vulnerability to succumbing to her whims--especially under the influence. She suspects it's a habit left over from being raised in such an affluent household.

“So, you…”

“I invited him, yes,” Addison supplies exasperatedly. “I didn't call you for judgment, you know. I called you so you could, like, tell me everything's okay! So that I could stop thinking about how he's on the same floor, how he keeps knocking on my door like once an hour, and so I can be talking to you and ignore the fact that he's one knock away from getting me to throw open the door and fuck him.”

The shot of bitterness that flashes through Olivia shocks her. It isn't okay, though, she wants to say. You've invited the man that helped you break up your marriage and then cheated on you with a nurse two months later to screw you until you forget why he was a problem in the first place.

She doesn't, though. 

“I would be lying if I said it's okay, Addie.”

“Lies make the tequila look less delicious,” she fires back. 

Touché.

Olivia chuckles lightly, and it's somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “How about you tell me about your day? So I can reassure you on how appropriate every decision you've made up 'till now has been.”

There's a moment where Addison blows out a breath loaded with such exhaustion that Olivia's sure she's asked the wrong question. 

“Well,” Addison says, and Olivia is relieved to hear that her voice doesn't bear the negativity she'd anticipated, “let's see, I got to start off my day with my asshole intern which, you know, i should be used to because he's like that every day. Then there's Mark, who's, like, trying to serenade me as if he’s some kind of exotic bird. And, his flight back to New York got canceled, which, of course it did.”

“So you're stuck with him.” As much as Addison would claim to disagree with her, Olivia wasn't sure she minded his presence so much.

“That's not even the worst of it,” she says. “I also had the luxury of witnessing my soon-to-be ex-husband flirting with his girlfriend. Oh, and then she caught me crying over it in a supply closet, which isn't a good look.”

A sliver of mirth is weaved into Addison's words that feels almost like she's throwing Olivia a lifeline by lightening the mood; Olivia grabbed hold gratefully. 

“So much for that Satan persona, huh?” She offers in reference to the stories Addison had told her during their last conversation. 

It had struck Olivia as peculiar at first, that Addison's peers at Seattle Grace had her painted as a petty, conniving, evil-stepmother-esque caricature of herself as it was just such a stark contrast to the picture of Addison she had in her own head. (Petty might not be an entirely inaccurate descriptor, but the Addie in Washington was a far cry from the sentimental, baby-saving doctor she knew in New York.) 

“I’m certainly more pathetic than Satanic at this point, Liv.”

Her light tone is an indicator that the comment is meant to be more of a self-deprecating joke than an emotional vent, but it nonetheless strikes a chord in Olivia’s heart; she’s aware of how much Addison values being seen as a stronghold. She’d likely rather be portrayed as a heartless demon than a spineless puddle of emotions. It is only due to her unfortunate circumstance that she has temporarily been reduced to the latter. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice tender, “You aren’t pathetic.”

There’s a silence on the other side of the line as if Addison hadn’t been expecting such a response. 

“You’ve gone through a lot. Are going through a lot.”

This seems to elicit a response.

“I consulted on a case today,” Addison says. “A little girl. She thought she had superpowers.”

Olivia keeps her mouth shut. (Certainly, she hadn’t anticipated such a sharp change of subject. But she lets her speak.)

“She had come in with injuries from a fall. The injury that needed treatment was a huge gash on her leg, but there were others. Some old, some new. They suspected the foster parents had something to do with it before they came to me, but as it turned out she had chronic insensitivity to pain.”  
“So she couldn’t feel anything when she got hurt?”

“Exactly. She ended up being treated for countless external injuries that had gone untreated as well as extreme internal bleeding. What I’m getting at, though, is that this girl had been tossed around through foster care her entire life. She was more worried about her foster parents having to pay the bill than saving her own life. She was afraid they wouldn’t want her anymore,” Addison sniffs, and Oliva realizes that, somewhere in her impromptu speech, she’d started crying. “I get patients like that all the time. People who've gone through some shit. And every time, every single time, I think: what right do I have to feel so bad?”

Olivia breathes out a sigh at this; it was a feeling she was accustomed to, the secondhand guilt you get from being surrounded by so much pain. It infiltrates every part of your life, and with every speeding ticket to family loss your personal distress feels invalid, as if your cries of agony are nothing but crocodile tears. 

“Pain is relative,” Oliva says, pretending it isn’t something she has to remind herself regularly. “You have to remember that.”

She’s never been very good at practicing what she preaches.

(But she keeps saying what Addison needs to hear.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback on the last chapter!! honestly didn't expect anyone to read this aha
> 
> if you're confused on the timeline, this is set around ~2007, so during the events leading up to the start of private practice. it would also be about a year before Olivia goes undercover in prison and almost gets raped.
> 
> i'm a slut for slow burn so buckle up. also, yes, the phone call format will end eventually :)!! i just want to get through the events of grey's season 3 and show how they impact their friendship hehe
> 
> *also i changed the title asdfghj
> 
> (also i've been rewatching early greys for uhh research since i hadnt watched it in 3 years and why the fuck did addison and meredith not have more scenes together im obsessed w their dynamic)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia is very smart but too dumb to realize her dykeness. that's it. that's the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people who leave comments are cool kids B)

“I promise I won’t be this, uh, depressing  _ every  _ time I talk to you,” Addison says into the phone and laughs wetly. 

 

Olivia chuckles lightly. “It’s okay to be upset, Addie. You don’t have to apologize. Now, what were you saying—she fell?” She prods.

 

There’s a slight role reversal as Olivia is the one tipping a wine bottle tonight. She’d already had a slight buzz when Addison had called, and she had ultimately decided to nurse it. It was late, after all, and she hadn’t anywhere to be in the morning.

 

A two-week hiatus had stretched between the present and the previous time her friend had called, and an hour into a phonecall Olivia was beginning to find that she felt quite like a therapist. Not that she minds, however, for she is also beginning to find that she was enraptured in the way Addison spoke; she was, in a sense, falling in love with the vulnerability Addison was offering. 

 

They had been friends in New York. Not acquaintances. She’d met Addison’s husband, had dinner with her friends. But Olivia had never been the person Addison told everything to. The entire time she had known Addison the redhead had been a beacon of composure and held a steadfast dominance—she was however neither feared or necessarily threatening, but she radiated with such a power that people respected her. Thus, there was something to be said for the feeling that rushes over Olivia when she is given the opportunity to see the utmost internal and personal workings of Addison’s mind, to receive firsthand accounts of the tragedies bestowed upon her friend and have the opportunity to know every little what makes Addison exactly who she is. It is, in a sense, like not only getting to view the belly of a beast, but getting to pet it. A magnificent, benevolent, red-headed beast. 

 

If she had been assigned the fate of listening to the many woes of Addison Montgomery, then she would accept it willingly. She would drown in the woman’s tears if such was required of her. 

 

“Fetal demise after one little slip in the shower. Isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?” Addison whispers the second sentence like its a secret for no one, like she’s telling it to herself. 

 

Olivia ponders it. It is sad, she thinks. It’s heartbreaking. How is it that the things that matter the most to us can be so fragile? So easy to lose with a single mistake. 

 

“It isn’t like you don’t see worse, I mean,” She adds eventually, and Olivia hums in response. “I don’t know why it got me so bad, honestly. They were just so  _ happy,  _ Liv. And then I got to tell this healthy young woman that her mistake killed her fucking baby one month before he was due.”

 

“Are you alright now?” Olivia asks, and it feels like a foolish question, but she isn’t sure what else to say.

 

“I am. I think so. It’s kind of pathetic, you know?” Addison scoffs. “One of my co-workers found me crying in a bathroom stall like a teenager that got broken up with at prom—the irony in that isn’t lost on me, by the way. We’re going out for drinks tomorrow.”

 

Something inexplicable shoots through Olivia that she doesn’t like. Something bitter and green.

 

Surely it isn’t jealousy setting up camp in her chest and tying knots into her heartstrings. It has no reason to. Addison is allowed to have drinks with other women, not only and especially when she’s a fourty hour drive away.

 

Olivia decides to bottle up whatever the hell it is and deal with it later.

 

“How’s that, uh, intern of yours?”

 

There’s a sigh. “He’s still an asshole,” she says, “but Sloan’s got him on his service now. I thought that would, like, perpetuate the asshole-ishness, but I honestly think he’s starting to miss me. Or working with me, at least.” 

 

Olivia had forgotten that Mark had gotten a job in New York.

 

No, wait, she actually hadn’t, namely because she’d been obsessing over it ever since Addison had emailed her about it. 

 

(She had noticed the bitter green monster before, when Addison had informed her of Mark’s being in her city. Only now it has seemingly become a staple.)

 

“God, I still can’t believe Mark’s working down there.” A beat. “No, wait, I can, actually.”

 

The man would, after all, follow her into a pit of fire without so much as a glass of water in his hand. 

 

It irks Olivia. She isn’t sure why. She definitely doesn’t question it.

 

“I know, right? It’s like traveling _ across the country _ isn’t enough to—” Addison goes abruptly silent, and stays so for a moment. Like she’s come to a realization. 

 

Olivia is a detective; she connects the dots.

 

_ Just like she followed Derek. _

 

“But it’s fine,” She begins after a pause, “it’s totally fine. I’m spending every minute trying not to find him and fuck him, but it’s fine.”

 

Olivia’s face grows warm. “Maybe don’t do that.”

 

“Eh, you’re right. I have the self-control of, like, a dog that’s been locked in a meat freezer, but it’s sound advice.”

 

“I’m serious, Addison,” Olivia tells her, shocking herself by both her boldness and by her sudden seriousness, “it’s not healthy to keep up these patterns. It’s a breeding ground for self hate.”

 

Perhaps alcohol makes her preachy.

 

Addison laughs slightly, and Olivia recognizes it’s pitch. She dismally realizes she isn’t the only one drinking tonight. It would be hypocritical to call her out on it.

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“Because,” Olivia stammers. It dawns on her then that she isn’t actually sure why she does. It’s the alcohol, she reasons, it’s making her brain all fuzzy. She hasn’t had much but she’s had enough to throw her off, surely?

 

“Because you’re my friend,” She states with feigned sureness. “And because I care about your wellbeing.”

 

Her answer is the truth. She means it. God, yes, she means it, because Olivia absolutely does care for Addison’s wellbeing, so much so that it is as if every atom in her being had been specifically constructed to wholely and unapologetically care for her. Thus, when Olivia gives  _ because I care about your wellbeing _ as an answer to Addison’s query, it absolutely isn’t a matter of whether she means it, as it is more about how she says it with the full intention of answering with honesty yet as the words left her lips they felt hollow, like a half truth rather than a whole one. 

 

Olivia wishes Addison a good night and good luck with her predicament. 

 

And, most importantly, she does not dwell on whatever realization is beginning to crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do ppl read these? deadass?
> 
> there will be actual in person interaction.... eventually. i don't actually plan this shit, u know. im winging it.  
> i don't think i even proofread. bah. it's 11:14 pm and i have a geometry final tomorrow. suck my toe. I love writing them despite all evidence provided that points to the contrary, specifically how it took me like. 7 days to write like 1k words. to that i have to say. shut the hell yr mouth. writing is hard to do ;_;
> 
> talk to me on tumblr (@lespians!!!) because it's the only social media i use regularly besides instagram even tho it's on it's deathbed. it would be cool to get prompts or whatever !!
> 
> also if the whole "very oblivious lesbian doesn't realize her feelings are lesbian ones" annoys u then u can uhh ALSO suck my toe bc it's relatable stuff uwu
> 
> and um. if ur INTO sucking toes. then u may. if you leave a nice comment first.
> 
> hnng im fried from finals sorrie


End file.
